


Office Hours

by LostInThis (KleverKills)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humilation, It's a Terrible Life, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:14:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KleverKills/pseuds/LostInThis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Smith is an office bully and Castiel is his prey. Things come to a head late one Friday night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Office Hours

**Author's Note:**

> A request that took me out of my general comfort zone. I like a challenge.

Castiel hunches in over his computer trying to make himself as invisible as possible. The clock in the corner of his screen ticks by another slow torturous minute. Ten more and he’s off for the weekend, ten more and it will be the first time in weeks he’s successfully made it through a work day without crossing Dean Smith. 

The very thought of the man causes a tight curl of shame and want in Castiel. He doesn’t know what he did to draw Dean’s attention to himself, but the man has been relentlessly torturing him everyday for months. Castiel is one of Sandover’s top sellers, and yet Dean has him running mundane errands daily, giving explicit directions Castiel follows to a tee only to be chastised upon his return for imaginary mistakes. Dean demands absolutely nothing less than perfection from him and he’s often summoned for a verbal lashing at his perceived incompetence, no other sales employee receives this kind of treatment. Dean is beautiful and cruel, everything Castiel shamefully longs for. 

Behind the hard glare Castiel imagines he can see a hint of desire in Dean’s green eyes. At night alone in his small apartment he pictures what Dean would be like released from the constraints of his business suit. It’s obvious the man takes good care of his body, his muscular build rippling under layers of cloth. Dean is a predator and Castiel wouldn’t mind being his prey. Except the shame, always the shame, of his desires leaves him trembling and lost when his hand is covered in his own come, the lingering image of Dean's sharp gaze in his mind. He’s mostly relieved when he reminds himself that Dean Smith is straight and would never want him, no one needs to ever know his fantasies about his office bully especially the man himself. 

Five more minutes, he doesn’t dare leave early, Dean’s office is on his way out, and if the door is open there’s no way he’ll make it pass unnoticed. The restroom is past Dean’s office also, and all the coffee he’s been drinking to help stave off the exhaustion from weeks of restless sleep have worked their way through his system. He just can’t wait any longer, carefully he peeks outside his cubicle, the offices are mostly empty, many of his co-workers having headed out early to enjoy their Friday night plans. The coast seems clear, maybe Dean has left early too, he rises and rushes through the cubicle filled room towards the men’s restroom. 

Dean’s office door is open, of course Castiel should have known it would be. The man sits at his desk head bowed over a stack of files, and his phone pressed to his ear. Just as Castiel is about to breathe a sigh of relief, thinking that Dean is too preoccupied to notice him, Dean looks up and firmly points to a chair in front of his desk. The look on his face leaves no room for argument. Dean motions for him to shut the door behind him, which Castiel reluctantly does before sitting down. He’s trying not to squirm too much, the discomfort in his abdomen growing with each passing second. The deep thrum of Dean’s voice fills the room, but Castiel can’t focus on the words, his thoughts completely preoccupied with the urgent need to escape the office and relieve himself. 

Finally Dean hangs up the phone, turning his full attention to Castiel. Castiel’s past foot tapping impatience and gotten to trying to cross his legs in a hope to hold his bladder a little longer. Shifting every few moments under Dean’s scrutinizing glare, unable to meet the other man’s eyes for long, he just wants out of this office. He catches Dean’s smirk out of the corner of his eye when he finally settles resolutely on looking just past Dean’s shoulder, out the window and at the orange and purple hues of the setting sun. 

“Castiel, sit still,” Dean says, “What’s wrong with you?” 

Castiel has the very distinct feeling that Dean doesn’t really need him to answer that question, but he also knows not answering will only drag this out. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Smith. I was just on my way to the restroom when you stopped me. If you don’t mind...” He goes to rise, but Dean is up and around the desk stopping him. His hand is heavy on Castiel’s shoulder pushing him back down into the chair. 

“Castiel you’re a grown man, I’m sure you control yourself a bit longer,” Dean’s voice drops low, there’s something there that ignites every nerve in Castiel’s body. He’s hyper aware of the heat coming off Dean’s body behind him, the minute tightening in the grip on his shoulder. Despite his current soon to be very embarrassing problem his cock swells against his leg. He shift hoping Dean can’t see the growing bulge, last thing he needs is to give him another reason to taunt him. 

“Please Mr. Smith,” he’s beyond caring about the desperation in his plea. 

“No, you just sit right here.” 

The pressure is getting steadily worse, and he knows he’s getting dangerously close an accident like the ones he had as a child. The memories flares bright in his minds eye, and he groans, barely fighting the urge to curl in on himself. It takes him to the edge of his willpower to stay sitting upright. Dean moves in closer, and a gasp escapes Castiel when he feels the press of Dean’s hard length against his shoulder. 

The tenuous control he’s been maintaining is broken by the distraction of Deans free hand wrapping in his hair, pulling his head back. Green lust blown eyes slide down the length of his body. Warm wetness spreads across his lap just as the hot flush of shame and relief rushes up through his chest and blushes his cheeks. He wants to look away but finds himself completely unable to when Dean’s eyes capture his. The hand is gone from his shoulder and he faintly registers the sound of a zipper and the soft rustling of cloth over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. 

He slides down in the chair, Dean’s fingers tightening in his hair until he realizes what Castiel is doing. Dean’s eyes take in his sprawled form, Castiel’s hard cock trapped in the dark stain spreading down the front of his slacks, and begins to stroke himself against Castiel’s cheek. Castiel bites his lip to stop the moan threatening to escape, humiliated by how much he wants this. The only sound in the room is the slide of Dean’s hand, their harsh breathing. He meets Dean’s eyes again and turns his cheek into Dean’s leaking cock, pre-come smearing a trail along his stubbled jaw. A soft pitapat as the hot liquid runs down his thigh and drips from his pants to the carpet. 

“Touch yourself,” Dean demands through gritted teeth. When he goes to reach for hesitantly for his zipper Dean shakes his head, “No, over your pants and piss.” 

His hand shakes as he palms himself, the piss covering his crotch still warm, the cloth sliding wetly against his cock. This time he doesn’t bother to try to stay silent, he moans and pushes up into his palms just as he pushes his cheek harder against Dean’s hand and cock. 

“You’re a filthy needy thing aren't you?” Dean growls at him hand moving faster. 

He takes a chance and again goes for his zipper, this time instead of be told no he gets a hum of approval from Dean. He pulls himself free of his slacks letting the last trickles of urine freely coat his hand as he strokes himself fully hard. 

“Please Dean...” he’s so lost in the moment he forgets himself and let’s formalities slip. His head is jerked back further pulling a whimper from him just as Dean’s body tightens behind him. Hot burst of come cover the side of his face, and faintly he realizes probably his dark blue suit jacket too. 

His own orgasm hits him blinding and unexpected. He’s left gasping for air with Dean hunched over him his weight bearing down on Castiel’s shoulders where he’s gripped him to keep his balance. The ever present firm lines of in Dean’s face have smoothed out and he looks younger, kinder. The illusion only last a moment before he’s straightening himself up and calmly tucking himself back into his pants. Dean moves away, and back to the other side of his desk leaning down to grab his suit case. Castiel sits up in the chair huddled in on himself and unable to look at the other man. 

“Clean yourself up and this mess.” Dean says from where he’s paused at the office door. Castiel tries not to feel disappointed, this wasn’t anything more than another way for Dean to humiliate him and belittle him. “I expect to see you in that chair Monday, same time.” 

Maybe he should feel more guilt about the warmth and anticipation he feels after the door slams behind Dean and his final words sink in. Instead he sets about cleaning up, feeling somehow more free than he ever has.

**Author's Note:**

> Um yeah, so haven't written for this kink before, hope you enjoyed.


End file.
